


Behind the Clouds

by SkyeBean



Series: Dawn Marks the End of the Night [2]
Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Emotionally Constipated Erik Lehnsherr, Gen, Genosha, Post-X-Men: Apocalypse (2016), and doesn't know how to deal with them, erik is developing friendship feelings, erik's trying to be a better person, psylocke is telepathic, she's also morally grey, vaguely implied Charles/Erik
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:54:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28198737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkyeBean/pseuds/SkyeBean
Summary: Erik had expected to never see Psylocke again, after she disappeared from the battle with Apocalypse. Then she turns up on Genosha, and he can't seem to stop meeting her.aka, Erik bonding with his fellow Horseman
Relationships: Elizabeth Braddock & Erik Lehnsherr
Series: Dawn Marks the End of the Night [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2065707
Kudos: 11





	1. Chapter 1

Erik was in the middle of one of Charles’ terrible book recommendations when footsteps pounded on the metal steps leading up to his house, and then there was a knock on the doorframe.

Within seconds, he was on his feet and striding across the small room to face Ariki. The other mutant looked out of breath, and had planned to walk the outskirts of the island today.

“What’s happened?” Erik asked. It took only a breath to snap into a militant frame of mind, a decade of practice catching up with him.

“Woman washed up on the beach,” Ariki said, immediately turning and striding off. Erik followed him without hesitation.

“A mutant?” Erik asked as he summoned to him some of the metal scraps he left strewn across his worktop. With a thought, they combined into a perfect sphere. Well, a miscoloured sphere – nothing like the ball bearings he had used in his combat days. But—it would be enough to battle most enemies.

“We don’t know,” Ariki answered. “If she is, it’s not obvious. Injured, Ahana’s standing by.”

“Good,” Erik said.

The two of them emerged from the trees, to make their way down the beach. And—there was a slight tug on Erik’s brain, a vaguely familiar feeling that said _pay attention_.

“She’s a mutant alright,” Erik said as they approached the small cluster of people, around a prone form on the sand. “That’s _Psylocke_.”

Psylocke – Erik could not, for the life of him, remember her birth name – was unconscious, and looked worse than she had the last time Erik had seen her.

To be fair, she _had_ fallen out of plane since then.

Sand was crusted in her hair and clothes, and she looked gaunt, with bruises mottling the exposed skin on her face and arms.

“You know her?” Ahana, their only resident healer, asked with a concerned expression on her face.

“Yeah,” Erik said, crossing the final distance to kneel at the side of the mutant he had fought beside.

Everyone else seemed to relax at that, but Erik wasn’t entirely sure why they were making the assumption that she was harmless.

“Is she a threat?” Ariki asked; he was the only one who seemed to understood the distinction.

Erik considered it for a moment, and then shrugged. “She may be.”

“What do you want me to do then?” Ahana asked, glancing down at Psylocke. “She’s not in a good state.”

“Heal her,” Erik said. “I’ll make sure she doesn’t become a threat.”

Ariki and Ahana exchanged a look, before Ariki nodded.

A day later, Erik had read a finished his book and started another one of Charles’ recommendations – this one was _also_ terrible – when there was a sudden flicker of movement in the corner of his eye, and an elevated pulse hammering against the cold steel slab Ahana had placed Psylocke on.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Erik said in the quiet.

They were in one of the empty shipping containers that were slowly being converted into living spaces as more mutants trickled into Genosha; this one was as far away from others as Erik could find.

Psylocke didn’t respond for another few minutes.

“I’m not holding you prisoner,” Erik continued. “Just detaining you to make sure you aren’t a threat.”

_That_ got Psylocke’s attention, and she sat up. The motion held none of the fluid ease that Erik had learned to expect from her, and instead reflected the aching muscles Ahana had been working to heal.

“I’m not going to hurt the mutants here.” Her voice was scratchy, sounding like it had gone a while without being used.

“And how do I know that?” Erik asked. “Last time I saw you, we were both working for a man who wanted to wipe out most life.”

Psylocke coughed, then said, “So were you.”

“That’s why you’re still here at all.” Erik paused. “Why did you come? Who injured you?”

“I needed to find something out,” Psylocke said, then angled her head in a _purely_ predatory manner. “Interesting.”

Every muscle in Erik’s body tensed when he felt a probe at the very edges of his mental shields. “Stay out of my head.” The words came out as a growl, decades of instincts rising up to defend his thoughts.

“You can tell?” Psylocke sounded genuinely surprised.

_I’m friends with the most powerful psychic in the world_ , Erik wanted to say, but didn’t. Instead he went with, “Yes.”

Her brow furrowing, Psylocke asked, “ _How_?”

Erik, however, didn’t want to get side-tracked; Psylocke was here for a reason, and he would not be distracted by conversations about telepathy. “Why are you here?”

“Interest,” Psylocke repeated.

“Be specific.”

“If I tell you, will it clear whatever debt I owe for the healing?” There was a flash of…something on Psylocke’s face and, the longer Erik looked, the surer he was that it was vulnerability.

So, as much as he wanted to say ‘yes’, to force the information out of Psylocke, he didn’t. Because he wasn’t that man anymore.

“No,” he said. “You don’t owe me anything.”

Erik was pretty sure Psylocke looked taken aback. “I don’t?”

“All mutants are welcome here.”

An eyebrow raised, Psylocke asked, “Then why are you guarding me?”

“You can stay if you want,” Erik said.

“And, what? You’ll let me _roam free_?” There was a mocking edge to Psylocke’s voice.

Erik didn’t rise to it. “If you’re going to stay, then yes.”

Now, Psylocke was definitely surprised; a second eyebrow shot up to join the first, high up her forehead, and her eyes widened and her jaw dropped. “ _What_?”

“Haven’t you heard the rumours?” Erik asked in a mild voice. “I called in a lot of favours for those to be spread.”

“Only once,” Psylocke said. “I didn’t believe it.”

“Then why did you come here?” Erik asked, frowning. “If you didn’t think this was a safe haven for mutants, why would you visit an island?”

Psylocke’s face immediately fell back to inscrutable. “Matter of interest.”

“Related to me?” Erik asked.

“Perhaps,” Psylocke said. “Perhaps not. I’ll tell you some other time.”

Erik felt his frown deepening. “There’s going to be another time?”

“There might be,” Psylocke said with a stiff shrug. “I don’t know, I can’t read the future.”

“You also can’t hear rumours,” Erik said. “You worked for an information monger.”

Psylocke straightened, minutely, her hands folding neatly in her lap. “It is hard to find work when Caliban is telling all of his contacts that you’re untrustworthy.”

“You’ve been blacklisted,” Erik realised, his own eyebrows rise. Psylocke was an excellent fighter, and it was oddly petty of Caliban to keep her unemployed.

“I won’t go back to the human world,” Psylocke said, “so until Caliban lets go of his grudge, or I find someone who hates him, I’m stuck with odd jobs.”

“You could stay here,” Erik offered again. “You genuinely will be just another mutant. No judgment for your past actions.”

Psylocke glanced out of the shipping container, through the doors flung wide at one end to the greenery outside. “No,” she scoffed. “Living on a socialist farm? Not my idea of fun.”

“Well, the offer stands,” Erik said. “Just as it does for every other mutant.”

Psylocke didn’t say anything more, so Erik didn’t either when she slipped off the island early the next morning.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> psylocke shows up without explanation. again.

Erik didn’t expect to see Psylocke again after that, or at least not for another few years, but only a few months later he entered his motel room in Detroit to find her sitting in the ratty armchair.

In less than a second, he’d pulled his two guns out of the bedside table and had them pointed at her.

“No need for that,” Psylocke said, even as a glowing knife flickered to life in her hand. “I’m not here to attack.”

The guns didn’t move an inch. “Then why are you here?”

“I was in the area, thought I’d drop by,” Psylocke said, like that was a normal thing to say.

Erik raised an eyebrow at her. “I’ve only been here for a day. How did you find me?”

“I’m a telepath,” Psylocke said. “I know these sorts of things.”

“No, you don’t,” Erik said. “That’s not how telepathy works.”

“How do you know how telepathy works?”

Scoffing, Erik finally let the guns float down to rest on one of the two shitty motel beds – but not before he’d pulled the bullets out so they were resting in his hand, ready for any attack. “Everyone knows I was friends with Charles Xavier.”

And Emma Frost, once, but fewer people knew about that friendship.

“I heard you weren’t a fan of his telepathy,” Psylocke said.

“Things change,” Erik said simply, and moved to take a seat on the bed, next to his guns. It creaked as he sat down, sagging suspiciously.

Psylocke’s eyes narrowed. “Yes, they do. I also heard you were a pacifist now.”

Huffing a laugh, Erik asked, “Where did you hear _that_ bullshit?”

“I’ve found a new employer,” Psylocke said, “and most of his employees think you’ve retired to your island to live out the rest of your life in peace.”

“I’m not going around starting fights, but I will protect myself and Genosha,” Erik told her, the words firm. “Tell your new employer _that_.”

Psylocke shrugged and let her psionic knife fade from her hand. “I’m not that bothered. If someone wants to attack _your_ island, they deserve everything coming to them.”

Erik studied her; something had changed over the past few months, but he wasn’t sure what. Psylocke looked a little less starved, her cheeks filling in, and the bruises had faded, but apart from that he wasn’t sure. Instead of the worn jacket Ariki had provided to replace her soaked clothes, she was wearing a trench coat.

“What are you looking at?” Psylocke asked, stiffening when she noticed Erik.

Given that they barely knew each other, Erik didn’t think it would be appropriate to comment on Psylocke’s health, so instead he asked, “What happened to your sword?”

“Turns out that swimming to Genosha with it was a bad idea,” Psylocke said. “It’s somewhere at the bottom of the Indian Ocean.”

“Ah,” Erik said. “It will have rusted by this point anyway,” he tried to offer as comfort, but Psylocke shook her head.

“I waterproofed the sheath before I leapt in the ocean.” She gave Erik a look that told him she thought he was an idiot. “I know how to look after my sword.”

“Okay,” Erik said. “Are you going to get a new one?”

Somehow, the next look Psylocke gave was even _more_ withering. “I earned that sword. It’s not just something I can go out and buy a replacement for.”

“So you’re going to stick with psionic weapons for now?” Erik wasn’t entirely sure what else to say to that.

“For now,” Psylocke said. She looked around the motel room. “What are _you_ doing here?”

Erik raised an eyebrow. “Why should I tell you that?”

“Because we have a special Horseman bond,” Psylocke said, her mouth curling in a small smile. “We fought together.”

“You think _that’s_ a point in your favour?”

Psylocke rolled her eyes. “Because I’m here. And—” she swept an arm around the motel room “—no one else is.”

After weighing his options, Erik realised that Psylocke wasn’t likely to try and stop his mission, so he might as well tell her the truth. There _was_ …an odd camaraderie between them, no matter how much he wanted to deny it. “Picking up a mutant. She wants to come live on Genosha.”

“Oh, is that the Gallio girl?”

Erik nodded. “Yeah.”

“My employer’s going to be pissed she turned his offer down.”

“You were here for her too?” Erik clenched his left hand, and the bullets lying on the bed readied themselves.

Psylocke waved a hand. “Don’t worry. Selene refused me, said she’s already got plans. I’m not in the business of forcing mutants to do things they don’t want to.” She paused. “Not for the moment, at least.”

Letting go of the bullets, Erik said, “You’re working for someone with a conscience?”

“Of sorts,” Psylocke said. “I am.”

“Do I know them?”

Psylocke shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Is that a yes?”

A hint of a smile. “I don’t know,” Psylocke repeated. “Do you?”

Erik frowned. “Fine, then. Don’t tell me.”


	3. Chapter 3

The next time Erik saw Psylocke was three months later – a year and a half after the Apocalypse. Once again, her arrival on Genosha was unexpected; Erik was sitting on the beach, staring out at the sea, when he felt something metal approaching from across the sea.

Sure enough, a few minutes later, Selene approached from behind him, the familiar presence of her daggers brushing against Erik’s senses.

“Someone’s coming,” she said. Her voice was always oddly hoarse when she spoke to Erik, because he was one of the few people who’s mental shields stopped her from speaking straight into his mind.

Erik inclined his head, not yet bothering to stand; the boat was still a few minutes away.

“It’s someone I know.”

“Oh?” Erik raised an eyebrow, looking up at the other mutant.

“She tried to recruit me, not long before you arrived,” Selene said. “I can’t remember her name.”

Real surprise rushing through him now, Erik straightened. “Psylocke.”

“ _That’s_ her name,” Selene nodded. “Do you know her?”

“Yes,” Erik said, getting to his feet and brushing sand off his jeans. “I do.”

“Is she going to live here?” Selene asked, tilting her head to one side.

Shaking his head, Erik said, “I doubt it. Peace and farming aren’t Psylocke’s cup of tea.”

A boat was visible now, bobbing up and down on the waves as it approached. Erik reached out, feeling for the metal making up the hull, and then pulled it the rest of the way into the shore.

“Was that you?” Psylocke demanded, springing to her feet. The motion rocked the boat, and she almost fell over trying to clutch the side. “Dick.”

Erik raised an eyebrow. “You know, I’m starting to think that you can’t stay away from me.”

“Sure.” Psylocke rolled her eyes.

“Why are you here?” Erik asked, glancing down at the boat. It was small, looked like the kind you’d find on a lake – not going across the ocean. There was water in the bottom of the boat, along with a plastic bag.

Psylocke swung her legs over the side of the boat to land on the sand. She let out a faint sigh of relief. “My employer wants me to assess the possible threat you present.”

Erik crossed his arms, narrowing his eyes. “I don’t start fights. You know that.”

“And now I can reliably tell him that.” Psylocke’s eyes flicked away from Erik, to Selene. “Hello, again.”

Erik turned just in time to see the disgust flicker across Selene’s face; the telepath just nodded to him before striding back up the beach, towards the settlement.

“She doesn’t like you?”

Psylocke’s face made an expression somewhere between a wince and an eyeroll. “She doesn’t like my _employer_.”

“Do _I_ like them?” Erik asked with a raised eyebrow.

“I doubt it,” Psylocke said. “Can you fix my boat?”

Erik glanced down at the boat, and with a wave of his hand, metal flowed from the handrail to patch up the small hole. “Done.”

“Thanks.” Psylocke made to push her boat back out into the water.

“You’re leaving already?” Erik couldn’t help but sound surprised.

Psylocke turned back to him, arching a brow. “Is there any reason to stay?”

“How long have you been stuck in that boat?”

“Only a few hours,” Psylocke answered with a shrug. “I was on a cruise ship, then stole one of the boats when they were close.”

“You were on a cruise ship? With humans?” Erik let a doubtful look form on his face. “I thought you hated humans.”

Psylocke shrugged, and there was…something tensing there, in her face and shoulders, but Erik wasn’t sure why. “I have…learned to live with them,” she said a little stiffly.

“Huh,” Erik said.

“You’re not one to talk,” Psylocke said. “I forget: was it me or you who started to dismantle the entire planet?” The question was _sharp_ , edged with a bitterness Erik had been expecting when he first saw Psylocke again. But not _now_ , when they’d begun to develop a vague friendship of sorts.

The reminder made his chest sink. “It was me.”

“Exactly. So don’t talk to _me_ about hating humans.”

“I won’t,” Erik said, and he _hated_ how defeated he sounded, but he was trying to be better and Charles said that part of that was accepting responsibility for his actions and—

He _had_ tried to dismantle the Earth.

The sneer on Psylocke’s face shifted into an expression Erik didn’t recognise. “I need to go, the next cruise ship is passing by soon.”

“Okay,” Erik said quietly, before he suddenly remembered what he had been meaning to tell Psylocke. “Wait!”

Psylocke paused halfway down the beach, turning her head back to him.

Reaching out with his powers, Erik grabbed a hold of the sword sitting in his house and pulled it across the island, until it was hovering in front of him. He took it, then held it out to Psylocke. “I found this. Is it yours?”

“Mine is at the bottom of the ocean,” Psylocke said, but it was barely a murmur as she took the sword. “This can’t be it.”

“I found it at the bottom of the ocean,” Erik said, “so it might be.”

Psylocke’s gaze shot up, meeting his. “You what?”

“Found it at the bottom of the ocean. Looks like your katana.”

Looking back down at the sword’s sheath, Psylocke brushed a hand down the worn leather. There was a pattern imprinted on it. “I—I think it is.” She swallowed. “Thank you.” The words were sincere in a way Erik wasn’t sure he’d ever heard from Psylocke before.

“It wasn’t a problem,” Erik said.

That was a lie. It had been a problem; finding the sword had taken two days of searching, and Erik still wasn’t sure why he’d done it.

“Thank you,” Psylocke repeated quietly. “I owe you one. I don’t like being in debt.”

“No one does,” Erik said, “but—”

Psylocke cut him off. “My name is Elizabeth Braddock. You can call me Betsy.”

Erik blinked once, twice, trying to process what she'd just said. “What?”

“My name,” Psylocke said. “Call me Betsy. My debt’s clear.”

“I’m…not entirely sure why that clears our debt,” Erik said slowly, more than a little confused.

“I’m giving you knowledge that very few people have,” Psylocke – Betsy? – said. “That’s a favour, so my debt is clear.”

Before Erik could disagree, Psylocke-Betsy was pushing her boat into the seat and turning the engine on so it zipped away.


	4. Chapter 4

Erik knew something was wrong when he startled awake in the middle of the night. In the distance, there was a faint shouting, so he threw himself out of bed and shrugged on the first shirt he could find before striding out of his ship-turned-house.

Following the sound of shouting, he moved through the centre of the circle of houses and then through the first field then the trees, before emerging in the second field.

Ariki was standing in front of—

Psylocke; Betsy.

His arms were crossed, and although Erik could only see his back as he hurried closer, he could see how tense Ariki was. Elizabeth’s face was twisted in anger, a glowing pink sword by her side, at the ready.

“What the fuck is going on?” Erik demanded, getting between the two of them. He tore apart the metal of his bracelets, reforming it into three metal spheres – preparing for a fight, if one broke out.

“Psylocke wants to talk to you,” Ariki said, “and isn’t concerned with who she has to shove out of the way to do it.”

Erik stiffened. “Who did she hurt?”

“Sanders.” Ariki pointed across the field, and Erik squinted through the night to make out the dark body slumped against a tree.

“I only put him to sleep,” Elizabeth said, sounding awfully like she was rolling her eyes. “He’ll wake in an hour or two.”

Erik twisted his body so he was fully facing her, his feet planted a shoulder-width apart and his arms resting at his sides. “You don’t come here and attack my people.”

“I need to talk to you,” Elizabeth said. “Urgently.”

“Then talk to me,” Erik retorted. “ _Don’t_ bring other people into it.”

Elizabeth let out a dramatic sigh. “I wasn’t _going_ to until he tried to stop me.”

“It could have waited _five_ _minutes_.”

“Maybe it could have,” Elizabeth said. It wasn’t any kind of concession. “But this is important.”

Erik didn’t shift a millimetre. “I don’t care.”

“Have you seen Angel?”

It took Erik a moment to register the question, to remember that she meant a young man and not...someone else, but when he did, he reared back. “Angel’s _alive_?”

“Yes,” Elizabeth snapped, “he is. I take it you haven’t seen him, then.”

“He went down with the jet,” Erik said. “How is he…”

Something softened in Elizabeth’s face, and she said, “I pulled him out of the wreckage and got him to a healer.”

Strangely enough, Erik couldn’t help but feel like he’d already known this, deep down; but how? 

“He’s…alive.”

“Keep up,” Elizabeth said. “Warren’s alive, and he’s injured, and he’s missing. You haven’t seen him.”

Erik blinked, then said, “No. Ariki?”

“What does he look like?” Ariki asked.

“Metal wings,” Elizabeth answered shortly.

“Then no.”

Elizabeth nodded, then turned on her heel to start back across the island.

“Wait,” Erik called, moving to match her pace.

“You have until I get to my boat.”

Erik nodded. “Okay: two things. Don’t _touch_ a mutant on this island again.”

“I didn’t touch him.”

“Fine, don’t touch or use your psychic powers on a mutant on this island again,” Erik said, unyielding in this. “If you do, you’re aren’t welcome here. And I'm the one who gets rid of unwelcome visitors.”

Elizabeth opened and closed her mouth before conceding. “Alright. Second thing?”

“Contact me when you find Angel.”

A hint of amusement curled on Elizabeth’s lips before she nodded her agreement. “I will.”

“What’s funny?”

“Inside joke.”

Erik narrowed his eyes but didn’t respond.

They reached the top of the beach then, and Erik caught sight of the boat tied to the pier that had been constructed a few weeks ago, and Elizabeth slowed down for the first time. There was something worryingly hesitant about her face as she glanced at him.

“You’ve been in contact with Storm,” she said. It wasn’t a question.

“I have.”

Elizabeth took a deep breath in. “Is she…alright?”

“Where does is this concern suddenly coming from?” Erik asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

“The very depths of my heart,” Elizabeth said in a deadpan, dramatically clutching at her chest. “Really, though,” she added when Erik didn’t respond, “it’s a genuine question.”

Erik considered his answer for a moment before saying, “She’s fine. Struggling with the blood on her hands, and homesickness. Liking the mansion.”

“That’s Xavier’s mansion?” Elizabeth checked. “The school, for the gifted?”

Erik nodded.

“Sounds like a good place for her.” Elizabeth’s expression was softer than Erik had ever seen it.

“It is,” he allowed.

After another pause, Elizabeth inclined her head in farewell before striding down the beach and onto the pier. A moment later, the engine started with a rumble, and Erik used his powers to give her boat a little push to give it some speed.


	5. Chapter 5

Erik was sat in a cheap bar in England, on his way to find another mutant, when the familiar feel of Elizabeth’s sword brushed at his sense. In seconds, he’d moved across the room into one of the booths, to give them a little more privacy.

Elizabeth pushed the door open a few minutes later, and Erik’s head shot up to look at her but…she didn’t look healthy.

Her steps were staggering, and she swayed from side to side as she moved, almost knocking into a dozen different patrons as she made her way across the room. When she sat down, it was more of a collapse than anything else.

If Erik didn’t know her better, he might say she was just drunk.

Fortunately, he did know her better than that, so he leaned forward and quietly yet seriously asked, “What’s wrong?”

Elizabeth blinked a few times. Her face was pale and her eyes a contrasting red. “I…Erik.”

“Yes, I’m Erik. You’re Betsy Braddock. We know each other. What’s wrong?”

There was a touch on his mind, and then Betsy recoiled, practically throwing herself across the room to get away from him.

“Get out of my head!” she shouted.

The bar fell silent, every patron turning to stare. Erik leapt up and out of his seat, hurrying to kneel by her side. He very carefully made sure he didn’t touch her.

“I’m not in your head,” he said, keeping his voice quiet.

Betsy shook her whole body. “Yes you are, you’re in my head, get out, get out, get out.”

Okay, Betsy thought that Erik was in her head. That…was interesting. But he was going to have to work with it.

Luckily, he’d known telepaths before – known one _very_ well, in fact.

“Are you having an overload?” he asked, glancing around the room, at all the humans staring. “There’s a lot of thoughts in here.”

Betsy’s eyes grew, and she nodded violently, her head thumping against the sticky wooden floorboards. “Yes, yes, yes, lots of thoughts, too many thoughts, too many thoughts, too many thoughts—”

Erik tried to think past Betsy’s chanting, and looked around the bar. He tried to judge how many people would think he was doing something suspicious if he carried her out of the bar – and away from all the people – with him, and decided that he could always make them get out of his way. If it came to that.

Even at fifty-five, Erik was in good shape, so he was able to scoop Betsy up in his arms and walk out the door.

It was both lucky and horrifying that not a single person stopped him when he removed a clearly unwell woman from the bar, when she'd shown every sign of disliking him.

He made a mental note to have a…talk with the manager. Make sure that it wasn't being allowed to happen to other women.

But, for now, he had other priorities. Once he’d helped Betsy in the passenger seat of the first car he found, he jumped into the driver’s seat and used his powers to mimic a car key; the engine started without a fuss.

The city they were in wasn’t a large one, so it didn’t take too long for Erik to drive out into the countryside. It helped that he wasn’t going a particular direction, just…away from people.

After less than an hour of driving, he pulled over on a narrow country lane and looked over at Betsy again.

Although she was still hunched over, her hands pressed to her ears, some colour had returned to her skin and the muttering was no longer constant.

“What do you need?” Erik asked.

It took a moment, and then Betsy said, “Water.”

“We don’t have any.”

“Oh.”

There was another pause.

“Do you need some?” Erik asked. “I can try and get some.”

“No. Throat’s just dry.”

“Okay,” Erik said.

Betsy clenched and unclenched her fists, staring down at them.

“Why did you think I was in your head?”

The question felt especially loud in the quiet car, and Betsy tensed at it. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do,” Erik said, voice firm. “I don’t expect an explanation right now, but I will be wanting one when you’re feeling better.”

Betsy let out a deep breath, clutching her hands together and letting her head fall back onto the headrest. “No. I should tell you. You should know.”

Erik very carefully didn’t say anything, giving the younger mutant the space to explain it one her own terms.

“I…have you noticed the odd connection between me and you, and you and Ororo?”

That was…not the direction Erik had expected this to take. “Yes.”

“It’s from Apocalypse,” Betsy said, the words coming out hoarsely. “He, becoming his Horsemen, left a mental connection between the four of us. We…it’s a faint line for the three of you. But for me it’s like a—a current, pushing me towards your minds.”

“You _what_?”

“I’m not a powerful telepath,” Betsy hurried to add, “nowhere near to Charles Xavier. I couldn’t enter your mind without you at least noticing. Impressive mental shields. But…it’s like…I’m constantly being pushed towards your mind, so I often bump against it. And…it’s how I know when you’re nearby, because my telepathy goes weird.”

Erik opened his mouth to say something, but he wasn’t sure what he could say, so he closed it again.

“Sorry,” Betsy said, voice subdued. “Everyone knows you don’t like telepaths.”

“They do?” Erik’s brow furrowed.

Betsy gave him a judgmental look. “Shouting at your telepath friend to ‘get out of your head’ in the middle of mutant-filled areas tends to get the message spread. Especially when the two of you are some of the most powerful mutants in the world.”

“Oh,” Erik said.

Quiet stretched for a moment.

“What happened to give you an overload?” Erik asked. “That’s unusual, right?”

“I quit my job,” Betsy said. The words were quiet, embarrassed. “My—I was working for humans.” Erik’s eyebrows shot up. “I’ve been putting up with their bullshit for months.”

Erik tried to find the right words; he couldn’t, so just went with what he had. “You were working for humans?”

“I know,” Betsy said tiredly. “You don’t need to tell me how much of a terrible idea it was. I’ve been putting up with their bullshit for months.”

“What made you quit?” Erik asked after a moment.

“They told me to do something I didn’t want to do,” Betsy said. It was barely more than a whisper. “Something I—really, really didn’t want to do. So I walked out, got shot with some nasty drug on the way.”

Erik frowned. “I thought your policy was to do any job, if you’re paid well enough.”

“It used to be,” Betsy agreed, “until—” she swallowed “—until they told me to muster mutants and attack Genosha.”

Erik bolted upright in his seat, knocking his head on the low ceiling of the stolen car in the process. “ _What_?” he said, almost growling at the threat to his people.

“I don’t know why,” Betsy told him. She yawned. “I’ll give you their address when I’m feeling better. You can shut them down.”

“I will,” Erik vowed. “ _No_ _one_ touches that island without my permission.”

“I know.”

Erik frowned suddenly as a thought occurred to him. “Why didn’t you do what they told you to? You don’t care about Genosha.”

The look on Betsy’s face told him that he was being incredibly stupid. “Because _you_ care about Genosha, and you’re my friend.”

Stilling, Erik eloquently said, “Huh?”

Betsy laughed, but it was bitter-sounding. “Don’t worry, I don’t expect you to view me as one. I just…I don’t have many people I’m close to, close enough to call a friend. There’s you, and there’s Angel, and…that’s about it.”

“Hold on,” Erik said to himself, trying to remember what Charles had suggested, “am I being ignorant again?” He considered the question, then nodded. “I am.” He turned to look at Betsy, who looked bemused. “I do consider you a friend. I think. I’m not used to having friends, either.”

Betsy stared at him for a moment, before laughing again. This time, it was a proper laugh; the deep, throwing your head back kind.

“You…” She shook her head. “I cannot _believe_ you.”

“I’ve been told I am often unbelievable,” Erik agreed. Charles had told him that, in those exact words, many times.

Betsy laughed until they heard police sirens in the distance and had to ditch their stolen car.


End file.
